From Encyclopedia of Druid, fourth ed.,

Names hold great power for the Druids. At every Druid's birth, the Priestesses perform a christening ceremony that reveals the infant's true name. A dragon is always present, as their fire is vital to the ceremony. The mother and father are hooded during this, and the Priestesses wear special dove masks. Any Druid unaware of their true name cannot unlock their true potential.

Part 2: Haelway

Chapter Ten

The Witch

Morgana was terrified.

She had been wandering around the forest for hours, and now it was dark. Her mobile had no reception. She walked with it in her hand, checking it constantly to see if it picked up signal. That was all she needed, really-for the little bars on her phone to light up. Then she could call for someone, tell them where she was, be saved.

But in all her walking, doubt crept into her mind. What would she tell her rescuer? That a witch had dropped her in the middle of this forest and vanished? Because apparently the Lady Morgana was the daughter of the Priestess Nimueh and had magic of her own?

She would be helped, certainly. No one would want to be on the bad side of King Uther. But how would Uther interpret her story?

Morgana had stayed in the tent until the noise of the fight seemed to leave, then slowly crept out. When the smell of smoke reached her, she had fled. She had run until the air was clear and then she stopped. Looked around. Where was she?

Now what was she to do?

She did not want to be rescued. Not here. She did not want that sort of attention drawn to her. What if she was on the other side of the country? There would be no believable way to explain that. And Gwen had seen her disappear. She hoped her friend had not panicked and told everyone about her disappearance. That would make coming up with a cover story a much trickier business.

But she had to be found soon. She hoped she was only a few miles from the citadel.

Perhaps she should climb a tree, she thought, slowing down to stare up at one. The trees had been thin before but these ones were thick and looked as if they would support her.

Did that mean she had been heading the wrong way? Didn't trees get bigger deeper into the woods?

She did not have the energy to be frustrated at herself. She was tired. She was hungry.

Climb the tree, she told herself.

Morgana lifted her arms and gripped the closest branch. It was barely out of her reach and as she held it her toes grazed the fallen leaves. She wished she was already at the top. It would be so much easier if she just—

Morgana gasped and nearly lost her balance. Suddenly she was not hanging an inch above the ground but fifteen feet up, sitting atop a branch that was bending under her weight. She stiffened with fear and held tight to the trunk behind her. How did she get here? What happened?

Nimueh was back. The witch had found her and put her up here so she could not run. Oh God. What if she fell? Would the witch save her?

With her heart thudding in her chest Morgana cautiously peered down below. Confused, she looked down the other side. There was no one below her. "Hello?" she called, and she waited. Nothing. Not even the wind answered her.

"I don't have magic," she said aloud. "I am a mortal."

Even to her own ears the words sounded feeble. Around her the darkness felt crushing. She cursed herself. Why did she want to climb this damn tree? She couldn't see anything anyways, it was far too dark. And now she was stuck up here. She wanted to scream.

"I want to go home," she whimpered. No one could hear her, of course, and after she spoke she hated herself. Saying the words aloud made her feel that much more hopeless.

She pulled her legs up to her chest and tugged her skirt down over her ankles. Never had she felt so desperate and alone.

Something cooed in the branches next to her. Morgana jumped violently.

Suddenly her world was upside down. She was looking up at stars and there was wind rushing through her and her stomach was in her throat. She had fallen from the branch. She was going to die.

Then there was cold grass against her face and familiar noises in her ears. Morgana gripped the blades nearest her hands and gasped for breath.

Wait.

She was on the ground.

Was she broken? Curiously, she shifted her body. She didn't feel broken.

Carefully, Morgana sat up. She curled her fingers in the grass every time she moved, to keep herself grounded. Hesitantly, she pulled her feet underneath her, and stood up.

There was the castle. Right there! She could even see her window. Where was she? The garden?

"My lady?"

Morgana looked up. From the open door of the castle a group of knights was hurrying towards her. "My lady, is that you?" one of them called. The light of a torch shone in her face, but it did not phase her. Her mind was reeling. How did she get here. What happened. Oh God. Don't throw up, don't throw up.

The knights drew nearer and bowed quickly. "My lady, where the hell have you been?" snapped the knight. Morgana blinked and looked at him sharply. It was Elyan, Gwen's brother.

Morgana stared at him. "What?" she said feebly. She felt dazed. Her vision was starting to swim, and she almost swayed.

"King Uther has been going mad looking for you, Morgana," Elyan went on. "Where were you?"

Morgana was unresponsive a moment longer. Then it was like something snapped in her mind, and she straightened up. "I was out in the garden," she informed them simply. "Honestly, did none of you think to check?" Then she turned sharply and stalked towards the castle.

Not magic, she told herself, and that insistence kept her strong as she walked. It was not magic.

No amount of prying could persuade the Lady Morgana to reveal any more than "I was out in the garden." But the way she shut herself in her room and did not let even Guinevere in was enough to tell the palace something was wrong.

King Uther pounded and pounded on her door, demanding that she open it. She did not even answer.

Merlin, on the other hand, had a whole new set of problems to deal with, and all of them were Arthur. "I thought you were deathly ill!" the mortal prince exclaimed as Merlin begrudgingly tidied the prince's room.

"I wasn't deathly ill you prat, I was sick!" Merlin was bitter. He was angry Arthur for his treatment of Emrys and he was hating himself for deserving it.

Arthur made a face. "Sure. And Morgana was sick too, was she?"

"What?"

Arthur pursed his lips in a wicked smirk. "Nothing. Make sure those bedposts are polished!"

Merlin scowled at him. "Of course."

Despite Arthur's teasing about something with Morgana, Merlin felt as though everything was relatively back to normal. Well, as normal as it could get for a Druid prince masquerading as a mortal servant.

How very wrong he was.

"The Druid prince got into Camelot far too easily," Uther hissed furiously. "He walked right into the citadel. Our defenses are inadequate."

"Father, we invited him," Arthur reminded him tersely. At Uther's look, however, he pursed his lips. "But yes, he got into the country too easily."

Uther nodded. "Sir Leon," he said, and the knight straightened up, "I want you to approach the prime minister and inform him of our situation. Have the AM defenses around his home and office increased. Tell Sir Percival to find out if the new AM border traps are ready. Skip testing. Put them out there."

"Yes, sire," Leon said with a small bow.

"I want you to increase the palace security as well," the king continued. "Search everyone. Extra-strength scan wands. Anyone that gets so much as a blip I want them interrogated."

"Of course, my lord."

"Good."

"Father," Arthur began, "I do not want the Druids here anymore than you do, but—."

"But what, Arthur?"

Arthur hesitated. His father's tone was dangerous. "But," Arthur went on carefully, "I don't think this is fair to our citizens. We're not at war. Extra security like this could make them uneasy."

Uther slammed his hands down on the table, and Arthur and Leon flinched. "We are at war," he said, his tone frighteningly soft. "The Druids have overstepped their bounds. They will do it again. It's only a matter of time. This was just a test. Next they will bring an army of mages." His eyes gleamed. "Have you ever seen the Druid army, Arthur?"

"No my lord," Arthur mumbled.

"No!" Uther repeated. "You haven't. They're an impossible enemy. They hide behind enchanted masks that reflect your worst fears. They make copies of themselves so real you could kill a dozen before realizing they have all been the same. They can disappear entirely and run an unseen blade between your shoulders, and you'd be dead before you ever saw your attacker. The odds are against us. I will not be caught unprepared."

Arthur pressed his lips together and focused his vision on a speck on the wall.

Uther waited, but his son did not speak. He turned and faced Leon. "You have your orders," he stated.

Leon bowed and exited.

Morgana felt insane. She could not bring herself to eat the meals left in front of her door and she could not stand the hunger. She was jumpy and anxious—she thought things lurked in the corner of her eye and at the same time she knew they weren't there. She tried sleeping, but it was fitful and nightmarish. She went to take her pills but remembered Nimueh calling her brainwashed. She hurled the bottles on the floor in fury.

It did not help that suddenly things were happening.

It was little at first. The book she had wanted to grab from the other side of the room was at her feet before she had even stood up. The chicken that had gone cold was hot again when she wanted it. The more she noticed these little impossibilities, the more they seemed to happen, and the more it frightened her.

She searched online for other explanations and when she found nothing she threw the computer. Several times she called Guinevere, only to stop after the first ring.

She needed help. Who could she go to? She was the Lady Morgana! In the mortal realm under the rule of the magic-hating King Uther!

For two days she suffered like this, both wanting to flee the room yet determined to never leave it again. In the end, she was forced out, by the fire.

She had been sleeping, twitching and whimpering with the dream. Her body shivered. She could not get warm. There was snow and ice all around and she was naked. Her skin was gooseflesh. Patches of it were turning blue. She needed warmth. She was going to freeze to death and she could feel it. Her heart was slowing down. Her blood was running slow. It hurt to even open her eyes. Her feet was numb and toes were missing. She could not move her fingers.

I need a blanket, she thought. I'm so cold. Please. A fire. A bit of shelter. Anything.

Suddenly there was warmth. She saw a roaring fire before her, and she was so happy and so cold that she jumped into it.

She had woken to find that her room was lit up. There was a moment's confusion and then she realized—the curtains were on fire.

Now she was stomping on the flames, yelling for someone to help her. She abandoned the task of putting out the fire and fled the room, ripping open the door and running into the hall. "Help!" she screamed. "Fire! Fire!"

She heard shouts and footsteps, but her eyes were fixated on the fire. It was quickly eating up the carpet, and the base of her armoire was being licked by the flames. Knights rushed past her, fire extinguishers in hand. Someone grabbed and pulled her to the side, out of the way. She kept looking until the golden glow disappeared from her sight.

I did that, she thought to herself. That was magic, and that was me.

And even though she wanted to deny it, she couldn't. It was too impossible. Too real. She felt sick, and dropped to her knees.

"What's happened?" Uther demanded. He rushed onto the scene, dressed in blue and white striped boxers with a black silk robe over himself. He tied it and nearly fumbled over his black slippers. "Morgana? Morgana! Is she all right?"

"Morgana!" Arthur yelled, appearing from the other end of the hall. He wore only sweatpants, and was barefoot and bare-chested with a sword in his hand. He spied his sister and ran to her, sliding into a kneel before her. "Morgana, what happened?"

Morgana looked at him, and her vision swam. "I don't… I…" Her eyes drooped shut and she fell into his arms.

Uther joined them right then. He took one look at Morgana and his face contorted with fear. "Call Gaius," he ordered the nearest knight. He turned to another. "You, bring a car to the nearest exit. We're taking her to the hospital."

Merlin woke with a start. He sat up in bed, his heart pounding. Something had woken him. He was not sure what, but his magic was thrumming in his veins and demanding action.

Then, suddenly, the telephone rang.

Merlin threw his blankets off and bolted out of his room. He yanked the phone off the hook and panted, "Hello?"

Gaius came lumbering into the kitchen, yawning as Merlin held the phone to his ear. The old man did not say anything as he easily pulled the receiver from Merlin's hand and put it against his own head. "Hello?" he said. He did not notice Merlin's horrorstruck expression. "What? No, that was Merlin, I—what? Oh God, is anyone hurt? Yes, yes of course. I'm on my way." Gaius dropped the phone on the counter. "Merlin, go put some trousers on."

"She's hurt, Gaius," Merlin said numbly.

"She's on her way to the hospital, she'll be fine," Gaius snapped. "Uther has sent a car for us. Get your clothes on. Go!"

The ride was silent and tense. Merlin was on high alert, his magic uncommonly alive. He could not stop his fingers from drumming across the seat nor his leg from jittering up and down. Yet Merlin did not feel right. He was too wound, as if he had drunk some of that coffee stuff Gaius had warned him away from.

The closer they drew to the hospital, the more intense everything seemed. The streetlights glowed more and more brightly. Every noise was a little higher in its pitch. Merlin could feel every fiber in the leather he was seated on. They pulled up to the hospital entrance and as Merlin stepped out he could taste illness in the air. And something else.

Somehow Merlin knew where to go. He strode ahead of Gaius, ignoring the people in bright white clothes and easily finding the stairs. As he walked his world grew sharper. His magic seemed to be singing.

Merlin blinked, and he was suddenly in front of a door, a knight on either side. "Merlin?" said Valiant. "Where did you come from?"

"Is she all right?" Merlin demanded.

The knight blinked, surprised. "She's stable right now, but the doctors don't know what's happened. They don't want to give her anything without Gaius's consent."

Merlin nodded and pushed past them. Valiant almost stopped him, but changed his mind and instead closed the door after him.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, standing up. Uther glanced up from Morgana, but Merlin did not hold his interest long. "Are you with Gaius?"

But Merlin didn't hear him. He had seen Morgana, and he could not look away.

The lady was dressed in a thin white gown, blending in with the bed sheets and walls around her. It seemed to pull the color out of her skin. Her eyes were closed delicately. A plastic mask covered her nose and mouth, a tube protruding from it and disappearing under the bed. Another tube stuck out of her arm, while something beeped quietly.

Merlin swallowed. Was this how mortals treated their sick? By shoving plastic into them? The idea horrified him.

Abruptly Gaius entered from behind him and smoothly pushed Merlin out of the way. "What's happened, tell me everything," Gaius ordered.

A man in a long white coat Merlin had not noticed before (probably because he blended in with the rest of the room) stepped forward and handed Gaius a paper from his clipboard. "No burns, but she seems to have gone into shock. We can't find any traces of drugs in her system. She's dehydrated, however. We have her on an IV drip."

"No drugs?" Gaius questioned, inspecting the charts. "Not even the ones I prescribed her?"

"We found those on the floor of her room," Leon stated. "Looks like she hasn't taken any for a few days."

Gaius frowned. "Really," he said with a hint of confusion.

"Gaius, I fear she… she's really ill this time," Uther said, and his voice was strangled.

"As far as we can tell, she's fine," the doctor stated, a little defensively.

Gaius pursed his lips together. "Sire," he began, "may I speak with you and Dr. Verne?"

Uther hesitated, then nodded. The doctor put the clipboard on the end of Morgana's bed and followed them out.

Arthur sighed when they exited and rubbed his face. He said something, but Merlin did not hear him. A loud ringing had filled his ears. He blinked confusedly at nothing at all and struggled to remember what he was doing.

Merlin saw Arthur stand up and walk over to him, but as the mortal prince drew nearer he grew blurry. The ringing escalated. It started to hurt. Merlin winced at the noise. "Can't you," he began, and his voice was soft even to his own ears, "can't you hear that?"

There was a tremendous crash that shattered Merlin's ears. His magic came alive like a crouching cat. He felt it surge within him, completely out of his control, and then it was over.

Arthur leapt to his feet, ready to fight. A red line went across his cheek, and another threatened to drip into his eye. With a snarl, he wiped at his forehead, and it smeared blood through his eyebrow.

Merlin felt like he had been submerged in water, and was suddenly breaking through the surface. He took a tremendous breath and everything was abruptly normal. His thoughts tumbled around in his head, the most horrifying one front and center.

That was magic.

And it was close.

Everything his father told him came rushing back in a flurry. His magic would be noticed. Perhaps it already had been and that was the reason for this attack. There was someone else magical here. He had been sensing them since he woke up.

He needed to hide. He had come far too close to being discovered hardly three days ago with Nimueh. He was not risking that again. And he couldn't wait for his father to come up with a solution.

He needed a dragon.

Arthur only tensed more when no threat presented itself. "Merlin, we need to get her out of here," he said in a commanding tone.

Merlin's heart was beating so hard he could barely hear Arthur. He tried to reply, but nothing came out.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled.

Merlin jumped and hurried to the other side of Morgana's bed. Arthur hesitated. "I've no idea where to put her. Get the nurses—oh god, Merlin, you're useless tonight—I'll get them. Stay here."

Arthur left in a rush, his hands clenching as if they itched for a sword. The moment the prince vanished through the doorway, a hand gripped Merlin's wrist.

The Druid prince yelped in panic. He raised his other hand, ready to cast, when his blue eyes met green.

"Merlin," Morgana whispered. Her eyes were wide and her clutch grew tighter. "Merlin you have to help me."

Merlin stopped. Tentatively, he lowered his hand. There was no reason to be on the defensive. It was just Morgana. She couldn't hurt him. He needed to calm down. He clasped her hand with his free one and knelt beside her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his heart still beating a little too fast.

Morgana swallowed and blinked rapidly. "I don't know," she said, and her voice was choked. "I'm… I'm going mad. Merlin, you have to help me. The windows—it was me. I have magic." She gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh my god," she breathed. "I have magic. I said it. What do I do? Merlin! You have to—!"

She went abruptly silent at the sound of the door opening. A horde of nurses filed into the room and pushed Morgana's bed away. Merlin stood stock still, unable to process her words. He could only stand and blink, his hand still outstretched from Morgana clutching his wrist. His brain seemed to short-circuit. All he could see was Morgana, lying in front of him, whispering I have magic.

"Merlin."

Gaius's voice snapped him from his thoughts. He swallowed and looked at his mentor. "Yes?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What happened here," Gaius snapped.

"It wasn't me," Merlin said weakly.

"You've been behaving strangely since we left the house."

Merlin hesitated. "I heard something, Gaius. It woke me up. Mor—." He broke off because at that moment Arthur entered the room.

"Gaius," Arthur said, "my father has requested your presence."

Gaius took a moment to scowl at Merlin before he left the room. Arthur took a deep breath and faced Merlin. "I have to go back to the citadel," he said somberly. "My father's positively batty." With that, Arthur left the room.

Merlin, finally alone to collect his thoughts, decided he should go to the dragon at once, and—

"Merlin, don't dally."

"Sorry?" Merlin said, confused.

Arthur gave him a pretentious look. "When I say I have to be somewhere, it obviously means you must accompany me."

Every single knight appeared at the midnight summons (it was actually closer to two AM, but that was the official title). Merlin stood slightly behind the mortal prince, as was customary of a servant. His mind was slightly torn, both attempting to listen to Arthur and form a solution to the Morgana Problem (as he had lovingly dubbed it) at the same time.

"Sir Knights of Camelot," Arthur was saying, and Merlin just happened to tune in, "I cannot stress enough how rigorous these restrictions will be. Even the slightest detection of magic can lead to imprisonment." Arthur hesitated. "For the next few hours, restrictions remain as they are. I cannot put anything new in place without the king's written approval."

There was a small murmur amongst the knights. Arthur gave a deep sigh. "Which means, sir knights, if there is anyone you do not wish to see subjected to the coming atrocities, get them out now."

Merlin stopped all his thoughts. He blinked in confusion.

As the knights filed out, he hopped to Arthur's side. "Sire, I thought you hated magic," he said uncertainly. "Why would you do that?"

"Not all who use magic are as evil as their prince," Arthur told him sincerely. "Just as not all mortals are as against magic as my father." Then he paused. "If there's… someone you need to inform, I won't ask any questions."

Merlin noted Arthur's tone and fear rose in his throat. "I…" He trailed off uncertainly. This could be his only chance to see the dragon. He had no idea what sort of guard it would be placed under once the new restrictions were in place. But was it safe to let Arthur think he was associated with magic?

Before he could decide, the mortal prince placed a hand on his shoulder. "On second thought, I order you to go home for the night. Just… go do whatever it is you want to do." He smiled a little, but it quickly dropped. "But if you're not back by dawn, it's the stocks for you."

Merlin allowed himself a small laugh. "There aren't any stocks," he scoffed.

"You go on believing that then. Show up late tomorrow. I dare you."

"I just might!" Merlin grinned. "Good night, sire." He hardly waited for Arthur's response before leaving the hall, trying not to run as he headed for the door.

The stairs were as they always were, boarded up and unguarded. He ducked easily underneath the boards and hurried down the steps, lighting a flame in his palm as he walked. The instant the ground leveled, Merlin shouted, "Kilgharrah! I need you!"

For a moment, there was utter silence, and Merlin started to panic. Then the loud rush of wings echoed throughout the abandoned tube tunnel and the massive beast slammed onto the ledge. "That is no way to summon me, young warlock," the dragon said, his tone unimpressed.

"Kilgharrah, there's… been an incident. Uther is going to up the security on magic," Merlin explained in a rush.

The dragon blew air through its nostrils. "I hardly see how that's my concern."

Merlin's body sagged with desperation. "You must care a little about the magical people in Camelot! Otherwise why would you keep bothering me about it all?"

"I have been imprisoned in this cavern for centuries," the Great Dragon snapped. "Not even the mortals remembered they had me, until they tried to build this track through my prison. None of the creatures on the surface concern me."

Heart clenching, Merlin said, "You don't understand, I'm going to be caught, and—."

"Whatever happens is meant to be," the dragon said with finality. It began to beat its wings, preparing to leave.

"I am a Dragonlord!" Merlin shouted, and his eyes flared with magic. The flame in his hand billowed. "You cannot disregard me like this!"

It had been a foolish, desperate last effort, and Merlin did not expect it to work. Yet the dragon narrowed its eyes, and its wings stilled. "Forgive me, my lord," the dragon rumbled, bowing its head slightly.

Merlin gaped in shock, but quickly straightened himself into a more princely posture. "Right. Kilgharrah, I need something that will hide my magic."

The dragon's eyes remained slits and its claws dug into the rocks beneath them. "Someone as powerful as you is hard to conceal," it stated thoughtfully, though there was an edge in its tone.

"Is… is there some sort of charm?" Merlin wondered. "I have something now. It keeps the magic detectors from going off. But I don't think it works against other Druids."

"No." Kilgharrah blew steam from its nostrils. "It wouldn't. You will need something like this." The dragon turned itself around and peered over the edge of the cavern. When it faced Merlin again, it had a small, silver chain on its claw. It held it up to its mouth and blew on it.

Merlin had seen dragon fire before, and he had even seen a dragon gift a Druid with a sword. But he had never seen it like this.

The flames were not orange or yellow, but pink as the sunrise. Despite being so close Merlin could not feel their heat. The dragon closed its lips, and the fire did not sputter out, but stopped all at once, and little embers glowed around the metal like glitter. A pink stone now hung from the metal.

"Take this, young warlock," and Kilgharrah tossed the chain over the metal that restricted it. "Wear it around your neck. It will keep your magic muted."

Merlin picked up the thin chain from the tiled floor and examined the amulet. It felt... like a rock, surprisingly. "Just wear it?" he asked.

"You won't be able to perform magic with it on," the dragon informed him. "But so long as you wear it, you will appear mortal."

Uncertain, Merlin pulled the skinny chain over his head and around his neck. The moment it settled, he felt the true weight of it. It pressed down on his magic like a ton of water, and immediately his head began to ache.

"You will get used to it," Kilgharrah said. The dragon blew steam from its nostrils before turning around and flying off into the infinite darkness of the cavern.

Merlin touched the amulet on his chest. Already he was forgetting how it felt without it there, much like a sick person forgets what it is like to be well. He breathed a sigh of relief, and, as he trotted back up the stone steps, he felt safer.

Merry Christmas! I must apologize for my tardiness. I've been slaving over this chapter and could never get it right. Thank you for sticking with it, though!